Chapter Four - Past Due

"I'm telling you, Richard, I've never seen anything like it. The Senate was like some sort of grim caricature of itself. All the pomp and speeches were there, but they all look at the Chancellor out of the corner of their eye for permission to snort."

Richard did not attempt to mask his surprise as he leaned forward toward his sister's hologram. "If it's that extreme, I'm surprised Padmé hasn't been up in arms about it. Once upon a time I wouldn't have heard the end of it."

"Which just goes to show how ridiculously stubborn you're both being."

"I'm not being stubborn, Sabé; she's the one who—"

"Richard. I really don't want to get into it."

He pressed his lips together and took a breath. "Remind me again, why are you even there? I could definitely use the eyes on Malastare."

"The last few months have been very hard on her, Richard. Hard without precedent, and understandably so. The Chancellor's kidnapping was the last straw. I'm just here to help her out for a few weeks. I may even stay until the baby is born."

Richard leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, trying not to snap. It wasn't like he had any real power over his sisters. They'd always done exactly as they pleased. "I could make it an order," he pointed out weakly.

"Richard, really."

"All right, all right. Could you do me a favor, though? Send me the holovid of some of the recent Senate sessions. I want to see this revitalized Republic culture for myself."

"All right. How are Yvenne and Sioned?"

"They're fine. They're still in hiding. I can't tell you where."

"I know. And how are things coming with the reelection campaign? I have to imagine it's been pretty hard to squeeze in plans."

"To a point," he agreed, picking up a stylus from his desk and fiddling with it idly. He rocked back and forth in his chair slowly. "But it's really the least of my concerns right now. Sometimes I wonder why even bother. I know I'm going to win reelection. Taking time out for the formalities really puts a cog in the works, and I've had so many other cogs as it is."

Sabé gave him a puzzled look. "Well, we're a democracy. I don't know what you plan to do about it."

"True," he said brusquely.

There was a pause, and Sabé looked beyond his line of sight. "I've got to get going. I have a meeting tonight."

He frowned. "With whom?"

She shrugged. "More business for Padmé. Nothing important."

"Kind of late, isn't it?"

"Richard, one of these days you're going to have to spend some quality time here in the duracrete beast."

"When tusk cats fly."

Sabé gave a smile. "Good night, Richard."

"Good morning, Sabé."

The transmission cut short, and Richard fiddled with the stylus a moment more, pieces of their conversation still echoing around in his head. He leaned forward to put the stylus back on the desk and his eyes fell on a holo of Yvenne and Sioned. His wife and child were on the other side of the planet, but even when they were here it felt like they were a million light years away. On this particular morning, they seemed like total strangers.

"Your Majesty."

Richard turned his head toward the comm. "Yes?"

"Captain Barris and Secretary Joolis are here for their appointment."

"Send them in."

A few moments later, Richard's press secretary and head of security were seated across the desk from him. "What can you tell me about Jessa Kennich?" he said, putting his elbows on the desk and leaning forward, an effort go get his head back in the game.

"Jessa Kennich," Barris plunged forward predictably. "Born on Commenor twenty-six standard years ago, low income family. Father deceased, mother lives with an older sibling, a brother, Lisdro Kennich. A third sibling, a sister, lives on Coruscant and has not had live contact with the family in several years. Before completing Commenor's standard education, Kennich was already a youth member of several socialist societies, very vocal on government reform and she went on to pursue a degree in political science at the capital city on a one-year scholarship. That's where she met Lord Ceidron.

"They appeared to have maintained a romantic relationship for well over a standard year, though admittedly it's hard to do anything but speculate on that count. Ceidron Metz left Commenor for Naboo six and a half standard years ago. Larkin Kennich was born in Commenor city shortly thereafter.

"Because of her past political ties, Jessa has found it difficult during the war to retain steady employment. She's been living on debt for several years, but her creditors are becoming aggressive, particularly with regard to her scholastic loans."

"So she came here," Richard said, filling in the only part of the story he knew, the conclusion. "To let the little girl's sellout father take care of her." He reached up to rub the end of his nose thoughtfully. "Claria maintains that Ceidron knew nothing about this."

"As far as I can tell, Sire, she's made no effort to contact him outside of the past five months. All of her letters were rejected through the security screening process."

"And you've verified the paternity tests."

"Yes, sire. The child is definitely Lord Ceidron's."

"Why do I always get the urge to laugh anytime someone calls him that?" Both Captain Barris and Secretary Joolis remained silent. Richard turned to the other man. "Lars," he said, "take time to read through all of Captain Barris's report. We'll release the story tomorrow. At this time, Lord Ceidron plans to stand by his child and her mother, but we don't know yet to what extent or in what form that support will take."

"Yes, Sire. I'll prepare remarks for you to review in the morning. Will Lord Ceidron and the young lady be joining us?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'm having dinner with them tonight. I'll discuss it with you then. That will be all for now; the captain and I have more to discuss."

"Thank you, Sire."

Richard waited until Joolis had left the room. "Any word from Agent Kal and his team?"

Barris pulled a tiny datachip from his breast pocket. Richard collected it almost greedily. "The list is longer than I'd like, but these are the names of everyone in Naboo's aristocracy even remotely connected with the reconstruction of the palace after the battle. Parliamentary oversight committees, financial influence for materials contracts, etcetera. It gives us a place to start."

"We need to learn more," Richard said, holding the datachip by two corners and staring at it hungrily as if by doing so he could find the answer between the circuits. "Somehow. We need to speed this up. With Yvenne and Sioned safe, I think it's time to take some calculated risks." He glanced at Barris. "I'm going to the ceremony."

Barris frowned. "No, Your Highness, we've discussed this. It's far too risky and the Gungans have already expressed their understanding."

Carefully, Richard set the datachip down on his desktop. "It won't be too risky. I have an idea. We'll discuss it more in private. In the bunker, tonight. Right now I have to get ready for a meeting with the cabinet. Thank you, Captain."

Still looking sour, Barris got to his feet and headed for the door. Before he'd reached it, a couple of Richard's tumbling thoughts spilled out of his mouth. "Barris," he called.

"Sire?"

"Kennich. How would you assess her politically if she were here under other circumstances?"

"What do circumstances have to do with it?"

Richard gave a dry smile. "Of course. Well?"

"She's borderline radical. She's never demonstrated violent or revolutionary tendencies but many of the people she's associated with in the past have caused the Commenor government a grave deal of concern."

"Like you said about Ceidron, when he first got involved with Claria."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Is she smart?"

"Her scholastic performance was exemplary, indicative of high memory retention and strong instincts."

"So, she's good with the facts and the street smarts."

"Sire, may I ask to what all these questions tend?"

Richard pushed the datachip along the edge of the desk thoughtfully. "I'll get back with you on that."

The smell of Coruscant meant a thousand things to Sabé. It was her awe and fright coming here for the first time, freshly thrust out of childhood. As a Senator it had been power and politics, one giant headache, really. Part of it was Ben.

Admittedly, Ben could be found a number of places. The desert stars of Tatooine, the heady jungles of Jenispra, the pounding waterfalls that fell away from her very own palace on Naboo. But Coruscant was the closest thing he had to a home. She always felt him here, even when she couldn't see him, which was most of the time.

Grateful for a city that paid no mind to those with an obvious secret in tow, Sabé watched a limited patch of Coruscant nightlife through the large cowl of her garnet red cloak. There was a slight danger of someone assaulting her from behind, but with so many lights and so many witnesses, the cautionary thought made only a perfunctory journey through her mind.

She stopped when she came in sight of Dex's. The diner was illuminated within and without as garishly as everything else on the street. Loud music blared from somewhere, but she couldn't tell if it was coming from Dex's place or the new club that had just opened next door.

Someone brushed past Sabé hard from behind, causing her to trip forward a couple of paces. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the flittergnats in her stomach, and hurried forward. Taking one look at the crowd inside the diner's public area, she opted for a less busy tack. The alley around to the back kitchen door didn't smell very good, but it was only slightly worse than the street when you really got down to it. And Dex was in a very good part of town.

It took three attempts at banging on the door to finally get someone's attention. "No handouts! Go away!" An extremely skinny twi'lek cook scowled out the door. He squinted a few seconds into the darkness before he finally found Sabé. "Although you look far too well-dressed to be begging," he added, though his scowl didn't fade.

She lowered her hood. "Can I talk to Dex? I'm an old friend."

"We're kind of busy, miss, or didn't you notice?"

Sabé reached into her pocket and pulled out a small red stone, streaked with pale yellow veins and polished to a shine. "Just give him this. You can keep it afterward, if you want. It's not really worth much."

The cook, as she assumed he was, took the karatine from her hand and glanced at it with barely marginal interest. "Can't you just go away?"

"No."

"All right, but—"

"Out of the way, out of the way!!"

Like the words were his prophetic doom, the twi'lek was suddenly swept aside from Sabé's vision and the doorway darkened with the burly form of Dex Jettster. "There's my favorite little princess!" he bellowed.

Sabé grinned. "It's been a long time."

"Well, get on up with you, then." Dex practically bundled Sabé up the three stairs into the back kitchen himself, all the while bellowing orders at the mystified cook. "Marco, I want a plate of your best chuscos and make it yesterday. For my special guests." At the word 'guests' Sabé's breath caught in her throat, but nobody heard.

Marco looked more angry at Sabé for being vindicated than he had when he'd thought she was just a nuisance but he sluffed off to do as his boss ordered. Dex drew her in close and started leading her with surprising grace through the myriad stoves and counters. Pieces of vegetable and things Sabé probably didn't want to know about flew through the air all around them. "Sorry about that, maati, I assumed you'd be coming in the front door."

"So you were expecting me."

He chuckled, and the gesture made Sabé rock on her feet. "Oh yes," he said, still laughing deeply from his belly. "I knew." He pushed open a side door and shoved her gently through it. She turned to see it close behind her, and saw Dex through the small round window, already back to intimidating his staff.

Sabé swallowed, and turned quickly back around to examine the small room. It looked to be a private dining area of some kind, or perhaps a staff meeting or break room. There was a scuffed table and pair of chairs and some tacks on the wall for paper messages.

There was also a Jedi Master slowly lowering his cowl in the far corner.

For a moment she stared at him awkwardly. The void of time was far more insurmountable than she'd imagined. Seeing him in the Senate gallery, she'd been much too irritated by all the incidental obstacles to conceive she might find one in herself. In that moment, she was afraid. Afraid that the war had changed too many things, that— maybe— he didn't—

And then, that gentle smile, and those eyes, warmer than a thousand embraces from lesser men. "Princess," he greeted quietly.

"Ben." Her doubt vanished almost as quickly as she was able to rush across the room to him. His arms were open and then she was closed inside them, safe, and heedless to anything else.

"Mommy, this itches."

Out of the corner of her eye, Jessa saw her daughter fidgeting with the stiff, lace-trimmed bodice of the gown she had been provided. She made a longsuffering expression that mirrored the little girl's and turned to regard her own reflection. "You and me both, sweetie," she said. It wasn't that the gown was uncomfortable, exactly, it was that she felt like a piffling idiot.

She beckoned to her daughter, who came over grudgingly, tugging on the collar of the sky blue septsilk dress they had given her. Jessa examined the garment. "There's enough lace on here to kill a nerf," she muttered. "The least they could do is make it a ruffle. You're right, this is the itchiest lace in the galaxy." She examined the seam that held the lace to the collar of the dress and smirked. "Hold still."

The sounds of ripping lace masked the sounds of the handmaiden who entered the room. Jessa didn't hear her until she was shouting.

"Excuse me, what exactly do you think you're doing? That lace is Hapan! Do you have any idea how expensive it is? And you've frayed the septsilk, look!" The girl, whatever her name was, hurried over and began frantically fussing over Larkin's non-itchy collar.

"Excuse you," Jessa said with a scowl, putting her hands on the intruder's shoulders and hauling her off. "I'll thank you not to touch my daughter."

"When the princess finds out—"

"I didn't ask the princess to put my daughter in overpriced doll's clothes, so if she gets her sheets in a knot she can take it up with herself. Anyway, if the Hapans think so highly of their lace, maybe they could make it a little softer."

"I've often thought that myself."

Both Jessa and the handmaiden turned to see a young, pretty blond woman standing in the doorway, surveying the scene with calm interest.

"Your Highness," the handmaiden bowed.

"Selmé, could you leave us alone for a moment?"

"Yes, my lady." Selmé spared a sideways glare for Jessa and hurried out the door.

Jessa straightened and pulled Larkin protectively to her. She schooled her features into an impassive expression as she sized up the smaller woman. Princess Elsinoré. Ceidron's wife. They hadn't actually met yet.

The two women stared at each other for a long moment. Jessa knew there was challenge in her eyes. If Her Royalness expected her to apologize for the gown she wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. Finally, the princess cleared her throat. "I, um—" she stepped forward, wringing her hands uncertainly. "I'm Claria. It's nice to meet you."

Claria. That was what Ceidron had called her.

"I'm Jessa. And this, of course, is Larkin."

Claria's eyes rested almost painfully on the little girl. It wasn't disdain, but there was definitely pain. She forced a smile. The attempt, at least, was genuine, even if she didn't fully succeed. "It's nice to meet you too, Larkin."

Larkin pressed back against Jessa's legs. Jessa nudged her forward, swallowing. "Say hello, Larkin."

After a beat, Larkin sullenly obeyed. "Hello."

Claria held her sad smile a moment longer and gave a sigh. "We'll talk some more at dinner, if you'd like that," she said to the girl. She looked up at Jessa. "If you two are ready, I'll escort you to the dining hall."

"You can't send a servant to do that?" Jessa blurted.

Claria stiffened. She quickly schooled her features and smiled. "I wanted to introduce myself. Without Ceidron. I decided it would be less awkward. Was I right?"

Jessa bit her lip. "Maybe," she said after some consideration. There had to be more to this woman than a pretty face spoiled in glamour. Ceidron Metz could not possibly have fallen for anything so superficial. That didn't make the idea of handing her daughter over to her care any less awful to consider. She straightened her shoulders. "We're ready." she said.

They followed the princess out of the living area of the spacious suite they had been given, down the corridors toward the heart of the palace. Two more handmaidens— Jessa had long since given up trying to keep track of how many there actually were; these two wore cowls and she knew from experience that they were highly unlikely to speak the entire evening— left their posts at the door and followed behind a discreet distance. Larkin's eyes tried to take in everything at once. No matter how much she saw of this place, she couldn't quite seem to get her fill. Small wonder; her entire childhood had been composed of duracrete halls and frayed carpeting.

"I'm sorry Yvenne and Sioned won't be able to join us." Claria finally broke the silence.

Jessa frowned, thinking. "The Queen," she finally supplied.

Claria nodded. "My brother's wife. They were sent away to a secret location after the last attack. I don't know if— " she glanced at Jessa, her brow furrowed in thought, and then her expression cleared. "Oh, yes you were here already. I remember, Ceidron told me you got stuck in the spaceport."

"That's right."

"I am sorry for that."

What Jessa privately wanted to ask was just how often in the princess's life she'd been in any way bureaucratically inconvenienced, but she bit her tongue and muttered some kind of rote assurance.

The three of them continued in silence until they reached the dining area, which was in a spacious room designed to look like an outdoor colonnade, complete with hanging lanterns and candles. Richard Naberrie, the king of the Naboo, was sitting at the head of the table. Ciedron was to his left. Both men stood to their feet when the women entered the room.

Claria went around the table to the place at Richard's right. Jessa just shuffled Larkin in the general direction of the table, uncertain of what to do next. When Claria reached her place, she cleared her throat and gave Ceidron a meaningful look.

Ceidron met Jessa's eyes and made the briefest of expressions that seemed to say Yes, this is what my life has become. You have my permission to laugh. Aloud, he said, "Jessa Kennich, may I present His Sovereign Majesty, Richard Naberrie of Naboo. Richard, Jessa and Larkin Kennich." Ceidron's eyes rested on Larkin, his face as ambivalent as Claria's had been, his eyes almost fearful, but quietly longing.

Though Ceidron had been introduced to Larkin as her father, the two of them had barely had more than three minutes to get to know one another, and Jessa rather suspected this was largely due to a skittishness on Ciedron's part. She hadn't called him on it. Yet.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Jessa," said the king. She turned her attention from her former lover to regard Naboo's boy king at last face to face. He was almost six years her junior and had hands that were far too fine for her to feel any real respect for him.

"Your Majesty," she managed with a stiff nod. "Thank you for inviting us."

Jessa glanced at the two remaining place settings, which were on the opposite sides of Claria, and Ceidron, respectively. She frowned, wondering which she was expected to take and which was meant for Larkin, and rather wishing they weren't being separated.

Princess Claria seemed to perceive all of this in an instant. "Jessa, why don't you take this place and Larkin can sit beside you? I think that would make everything more convenient, wouldn't it?"

Grateful she didn't have to make another scene, even a small one, Jessa quickly accepted. She pretended not to notice the fidgeting of some of the staff in the corners of room. It was highly irregular for her to take a higher place than the princess at this table, but it wasn't as if she'd asked for any of this posturing, anyway.

When they had all been seated, the same staffers began pouring drinks. Jessa wondered how many courses there were and how long it would take them to get to the conversation of substance.

Dinner was a stilted affair. Claria bore her mantle as hostess with admirable patience, keeping the talk going whenever it threatened to lapse into silence. Ceidron did his best to help her, but his concentration kept getting pulled in the direction of the little girl sitting beside Jessa, trying to sort out everything he felt when he looked at her. Mostly what he felt was a keen, unfathomable pain, which confused him.

Larkin had straight hair, almost black, that fell just above her shoulders, and dark eyes that took in everything. She was clearly very bright. He noticed that she endured the adults' conversation much longer than he would have expected, studying each person's face as they spoke and making faces of puzzlement and concentration whenever something in the conversation proved beyond her reach.

He had hoped for... something on her part when they were first introduced. An unspoken bond, a subconscious connection, some sort of father-daughter magic that supposedly existed. But though his daughter regarded him with polite interest, she didn't manifest any sort of particular enthusiasm for him, and he was surprised to find he found himself almost affronted.

But after all, what should she feel toward him? He had never been a part of her life. As far as she knew, he wouldn't be any relevant part of her future, which was going to make the upcoming conversation pretty interesting. He glanced at Jessa. Why hadn't she done anything to prepare this child for the total uprooting of her life?

Ceidron heard Richard clear his throat and forced himself to the here and now, recognizing that the throat-clearing had been official in nature. Richard was finally bringing them to the point of this whole, awkward little pageant.

"Jessa," he said with delicacy that was almost condescending. Ceidron bit back the impulse to sigh in exasperation. "Tomorrow I intend to release your story to the press. You aren't under any pressure or obligation, of course, but any proactive involvement on your part would be appreciated."

Jessa's brow furrowed. "Such as?"

"A statement, perhaps. Maybe an interview with one of the prominent news journals. My press secretary can school you in the best language."

Ceidron's mouth twitched in a lesser echo of the smile— almost mocking— with which Jessa replied to these words. "The best language?" she repeated. She considered for a moment, still holding a choice selection of words behind the barrier of her teeth before she said carefully, "No, thank you, Your Majesty, I think it would be better for both of us if I maintained a low profile in all of this business. I believe you would it a more ... diplomatic course of action."

Ceidron coughed a quiet chuckle into his hand and Claria threw him a tiny glare. Richard merely regarded Jessa with the calm respect of a rival krannack player and nodded his head marginally. "All right," he said. "And what may we say with regard to arrangements for the girl?"

Larkin, who had been beginning to fidget despite her admirable patience, was immediately all ears. Jessa glanced at her briefly and uncomfortably, then back at Richard. "I guess I don't understand. What's to discuss? I think I've made my situation and my desires pretty clear."

"Not as clear as we would like. Forgive me, but I have no idea if we should expect this to be an irrevocably permanent arrangement, or if you would prefer something more flexible, or—"

"Richard," Ceidron blurted out. He wasn't sure who he was most annoyed with: Jessa, for forcing them to have this conversation so uncomfortably (given Larkin's ignorance), Richard, for being a pinhead about the whole thing, or himself, for not having the courage to act on the point sooner. He caught his brother-in-law's gaze. "Please, stop. You're taking what should be my part in this conversation and it's kind of embarrassing."

"For me or for you?" Richard replied coolly.

Ceidron bit back a snap response and took a steadying breath. "Would you mind if Jessa and I discussed this privately first, please?" Claria looked between them all with an unreadable expression.

"Of course."

Ceidron stood up. "We'll be right outside."

Looking less than thrilled, Jessa set her napkin on her plate and pulled away from the table as well. "Sweetie, stay and talk to Princess Claria for a few minutes," she said to Larkin, squeezing her shoulder. "Mommy will be right back."

Ceidron led her out of the dim room into the evening-lit corridors, the down the hall a ways, well out of earshot. When he stopped, they squared off on opposite sides of the hallway, both bristling with caution. Ceidron knew it was up to him to get this started, but there were a lot of things that needed to be said and he had no idea what should come first.

"Why haven't you told her yet?" he blurted.

"What?"

"Larkin. If you came here so resolved to give her up, why doesn't she have a clue what's going on?"

Jessa gave an indolent shrug. "Knowing her, she does have some sort of clue. I wouldn't put it past her."

"Well, I could understand if she was suspicious," he said, "but there's a huge difference between insubstantial bedtime fears and something life-shattering that your mommy is keeping from you."

"Oh, so now you're an expert on handling children?"

"Wow, it didn't take you long to pull that card, did it?" Ceidron ran his hands into his hair and tugged slightly. "Very classy, Jessa. Almost as classy as never telling me I had a child. Care to explain that, by the way?"

"You went to Naboo."

"I wasn't planning on staying."

At this, Jessa could only snort.

He pressed his lips together and glared at her. "Yes, I admit, things went pretty far off plan, but you don't think I would have cared? That coming back wouldn't have been a priority?"

"You never would have met your princess," she retorted.

"Dammit, Jessa," he said. "Stop avoiding the point. You were always good at avoiding the point, which is a shame, because you're much too smart for that. You want to know what I think?"

She sighed. "What's that?"

"You haven't told her because you don't want to give her up. You're hoping for a miraculous solution to your problem. You can still keep Jessa. You can still raise her. All you have to do is ask."

Jessa was tight as one of the strings on his wife's clavaria. "You want me to beg your rich friends for money so you don't have to take the responsibility," she clarified.

"No, I'm telling you that you don't have to let your pride keep you from what you want," he said, his voice rising slightly. "Believe me, now that you've spilled the milk, you're not getting rid of me. But don't be too stiff-necked to keep from being happy."

He watched her stand in stony silence, not able to look at him. Her jaw was set stiffly and she seemed to almost be chewing on her tongue to avoid saying anything until she'd regained her composure. Finally, she met his gaze squarely. "You might have gotten comfortable with taking handouts from people, Richard, but I haven't. I've fought my entire life against establishments like this one."

"The Naberries are good people."

"Yeah, your brother-in-law seems like a real charmer."

Ciedron shuffled his feet and gave a sigh. "It's been hard," he said, "with the war."

"Anyway, it doesn't matter how idyllic or well-intentioned they are. The system here has become too comfortable. Comfort is corruption; eventually something's going to rot. You know that."

"I know," he said quietly.

"So—" she faltered. "Why—?" The question hung unfinished between them, heavy with hurt and implications.

"I love her, Jess. The rest of it isn't easy on me. But it's worth it."

She considered this before giving a humoring nod, as though she really couldn't understand. "I don't want to be beholden to your king," she said, "and I imagine he would prefer to avoid the appearance of blackmail on my part. This place and all this extravagance makes me more nervous than a nerf on a shooting range, but I can't deny Larkin steady food on the table and a good education. I trust you enough to make sure she's not brainwashed."

"Thank you for that."

"And yes, to answer His Majesty's question, if I get back on my feet then I'll be back to get her. But I'm doing it myself."

"At least let me—"

"No. We'll discuss it if— when— the time comes. I'm sorry I cut you out, Ceidron. I wanted to avoid— well, this."

"Are we done then?"

"I think so."

"All right, let's go tell them."

"First we should tell Larkin."

Her voice was small, and Ceidron paused his racing thoughts to peer more closely at her face, which was just about as distraught as he'd ever seen it. "Come here," he said, pulling her close, the gesture bringing back a cacophony of memory. "It's going to be fine, Jess. You're going to make it. Both of you."

He let her sob until her sobs were dried up. He would not have Jessa Kennich, who dined with kings with her head held high, face off against Richard Naberrie again from a place of frailty.

Over the past interminable years, Sabé feared her memory had exaggerated the feeling of being in Ben's arms. That his kiss hadn't really been that perfect, that she couldn't possibly have thrilled so completely in every nerve. That she hadn't really sensed, beneath his careful, tender restraint, a penned up passion that crackled like lightning in a secret place she suspected that only she had ever seen.

Well, she reasoned, faulty memory worked in both directions. She'd never imagined she could have shortchanged what she remembered. She breathed deeply, catching that musky, traveled scent of his robes. Her hands were around his face, brushing against the foreign prickle of his beard and she inhaled deeply again when his arms tightened around her, bending her slightly backwards as their kiss strengthened.

She broke off, breathless, but did not stray far from his mouth. "We are worse than a pair of teenagers," she muttered. "I'm starting to doubt your absolute Jedi celibacy over all these years."

He gave a brief, tiny smirk. "I have a very extensive and mysterious past, Princess." He leaned in again and she obliged, closing her eyes. This time kiss was still, poised and reverent, and a brief image of Claria holding a fermata during one of her concertos skipped in and out of Sabé's mind before she quietly broke it off again, licking her lips briefly and opening her eyes to gaze at him. Then she gave a satisfied sigh and put her head on his shoulder. He pulled her into a more comfortable hold on the rickety chair they were sharing.

"Do you think we gave Dex a shock?" she pondered aloud.

"Somehow I doubt it. Dex is masterfully intuitive. But I suppose we should probably eat those chuscos, since he suffered so much trauma to bring them for us."

"Good point. I guess he's our secret-keeper now. For whatever that's worth."

"Sabé—"

"It's all right, Ben. You know I would never ask anything of you. This is enough."

"No, it isn't." His voice was distant, hard, wistful, all at the same time.

She listened to the echoes of his words for a long handful of hearbeats. "No, it isn't," she repeated in a small voice. She reached up to touch his face, sadly. "You look so tired."

"Better than I have been for some time, though, I assure you. It's good to have a rest. I'm not sure what's more exhausting, fighting the war or... keeping him in check."

Sabé squirmed. No need to clarify who 'him' was. The thought was not lost on her that at this very moment, Anakin and Padmé were probably engaging in such shocking behavior as that which compromised Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, except in their case—

She let that thought die before it could bother her too much. There was one thing, though, that she didn't feel right about. Padmé had asked for her silence, but surely Obi-Wan could be trusted with Anakin's secret. Sabé was sure he cared more about Anakin than he did the opinion of the Council. "Ben," she said, after a deep breath, "I think I should tell you—"

He squeezed her arm gently and she closed her mouth. "Don't," he said, in a reassuring warning. "There are some points of knowledge with which I have been

keen to remain unacquainted."

"It's really unfair that you can read my mind, you know."

"I can't read your mind, Sabé, I only—"

She wriggled free slightly and put a finger on his lips. "I know, I know. You know what I mean." She searched his eyes. "It still isn't fair."

"Then don't trust me so much," he replied, amused. "You're the one who makes it so easy."

"When I saw you today—" Sabé said. "Well, I can't even really describe how I felt."

"I was surprised to discover you there. The last I heard you were still on Malastare."

"You've been busy. And much too secretive for my tastes. It's not like I can just comm the Jedi Council every morning and ask them if you're still alive. Especially when I'm not even planetside," she added wryly. "I only just got here. Padmé called me when the Chancellor was first kidnapped. She's going to be needing a lot of help once the baby is born."

A brief expression of distaste flashed across Ben's eyes at mention of Padmé's pregnancy, but he said nothing about it. "I think we should be getting back," he said at last. "We'll both be missed."

"Will I see you again?" she asked. She hated that she couldn't even qualify the question.

In response, he kissed her softly, lingeringly. "I know I am a hypocritical old Jedi," he said, "but that does not make the Force any less genuine. No matter what happens, Sabé Vána, I will always see you again."

A/N: Well, like I said, this is the last chapter in the bank for now. Although I may try to write a little before November just so I can figure out the best strategies for hitting my daily word count for Nanowrimo. As I said, I think there are worse places that loyal and wonderful readers could be left hanging. ;-)

Feedback is chocolate! Especially since I've already eaten my daily allotment of sweets! ;-)